<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>and we are here (but i already miss you) by lostresidentevilpotter</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393955">and we are here (but i already miss you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter'>lostresidentevilpotter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Six Years Later [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wilds (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:49:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She flips on the TV one day to see Jeffrey Galanis’s mugshot on the screen, accompanied by the headline AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR CHARGED WITH MULTIPLE SEX CRIMES. And Fatin goes to grab her phone.</p><p>Or, Fatin and Leah reconnect six years after the island while Fatin's living the life she planned out with Dot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dot Campbell &amp; Fatin Jadmani, Dot Campbell/Mateo, Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Six Years Later [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>305</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and we are here (but i already miss you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Me? Posting a totally separate fic while I'm rolling out the 100k fic? If you've been reading and it's like our world but we're the last ones left, this is the surprise I mentioned. I actually wrote this fic before I ever started the 100k fic, and I finally got around to editing it so I figured I might as well share it before I get smacked with midterm exams. Hope you enjoy it!</p><p>Title is from Ours by The Bravery (and yes, I know that song because of the Eclipse soundtrack - don't judge me lol)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She flips on the TV one day to see Jeffrey Galanis’s mugshot on the screen, accompanied by the headline <em>AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR CHARGED WITH MULTIPLE SEX CRIMES</em>. And Fatin goes to grab her phone.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p><strong>Princess Jadmani, 1:05 p.m. </strong> <em>it’s not the sort of thing you say over text, right? i can’t just text her something like “hey i saw that your pedo ex-bf got arrested for being a fucking pedo” right? like i should call her or idk maybe drive out to east bay? </em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Fuckface, 1:08 p.m. </strong> <em>Jesus Fatin just call and ask her how she’s doing and if she says anything concerning then I’ll personally drive us both to pick her ass up</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Princess Jadmani, 1:15 p.m. </strong> <em>right right you’re totally right</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Princess Jadmani, 1:15 p.m. </strong> <em>what would i ever do without you, dorothy? </em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Fuckface, 1:22 p.m. </strong> <em>Die probably</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Fuckface, 1:23 p.m. </strong> <em>Pizza okay for dinner?</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It takes Fatin an embarrassing amount of time to actually hit the call button once she commits to calling Leah. Her thumb hovers over the phone icon on the contact page for Leah. Fatin’s contact list is full of ridiculous names for all her loved ones and friends, names that change rather often, depending on her mood. Shit, Dot’s name changes at least once a week, even though it usually ends up going back to <em>Fuckface</em> before long. Leah’s name, though, is just <em>Leah Rilke. </em>Nothing special. It’s not a number that Fatin makes frequent use of.</p><p> </p><p>She feels bad. She should check in more often, probably, without being prompted by something like a new documentary about their ordeal being released or, you know, seeing that Jeff Galanis is being held without bail now that multiple women have accused him of disgusting conduct when they were minors. She should’ve been hitting Leah up way before right now, just to see how things are going, ask her about her life. You know. Normal, like, friend shit.</p><p> </p><p>God, Fatin needs to grow a pair. It’s just Leah. Fatin sits on the edge of her bed, leg bouncing incessantly, as she stares at her phone in her hand, as she stares at the name <em>Leah Rilke </em>on the screen. She needs to get this call over with before Dot gets home from work. So Fatin hits dial, and she flinches as she raises the phone to her ear, waiting for Leah to either pick up or send her to voicemail. And she does pick up, but it’s followed by a few seconds of tense silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Fatin?” Leah finally says. “You there?”</p><p> </p><p>“What – oh, yeah! Hey, girl! It’s been…a while,” Fatin exclaims. The cheeriness in her voice sounds <em>so </em>fake. She’s met with silence. Fatin can hear Leah inhale. “Is this a bad time?” Fatin asks. “Because I can totally call back –”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s okay,” Leah cuts in. “I – sorry, you just caught me a little off guard.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know we haven’t spoken recently,” Fatin says, twirling a lock of her hair around her fingertip. “And that’s totally my fault.” Not that Leah’s exactly been bombarding Fatin with texts or calls. They interacted a lot more – apart from, like, liking each other’s shit on Instagram or watching Snapchat stories – when they first got back to California, when they were still readjusting to living in normal society again, when they both still lived in the Bay, like, ten minutes away from each other.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’ve been…it’s not entirely your fault,” Leah replies. “So what’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Um, see, I actually saw something on TV today,” Fatin explains slowly. “And I just wanted to call to see how you’re doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“You saw something that made you want to see how I’m doing?” Leah says, and <em>shit</em>, it only just occurs to Fatin that maybe Leah doesn’t know. But before Fatin can backtrack, Leah says, “It’s because of Jeff, right? It’s because they arrested him.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin exhales, pushes her free hand into her hair, which now just hits at about her shoulders. She didn’t quite have the meltdown that Shelby initially had and decide to, like, shave her entire head, but Fatin did let Dot talk her into chopping most of her hair off, and she kind of likes mixing it up a bit. “Yeah,” Fatin admits. “I was just afraid maybe…I don’t know. I thought I’d check in. Just to be safe.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s not sure if the Galanis thing will make national news. She’s not sure if the other girls will know about it until Dot inevitably fills them all in. Fatin’s terrible at keeping up with Leah, and Leah lives the closest to her and Dot, so it’s not like Fatin’s any better at keeping up with any of the other girls, either. Apart from what she sees on social media, at least. She knows Toni and Shelby are still together and living up in Minnesota. She knows Toni and Shelby have regular double dates with Martha and the boyfriend she met literally two weeks after they shifted back into regular life. She knows Nora and Rachel share an apartment together, and that Rachel’s a diving coach while Nora returned to school to start racking up degrees. So Fatin isn’t totally out of the loop with everyone, but still. She doesn’t call or text as much as she probably should.</p><p> </p><p>Plus, Leah posts the least amount on social media out of all of them, so Fatin really should’ve been making a stronger effort to keep in touch at least with Leah. Fatin honestly doesn’t have much of an idea what’s been going on with Leah.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I appreciate it,” Leah says, and she sounds sincere, as far as Fatin can tell. “But I’m fine. Really.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” Fatin blurts. “Because, like, it’s totally cool if you aren’t fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin winces. Even if Leah’s not fine, who is she to pry into Leah’s life now? It’s been years since their stay in Hell. Their lives are completely different now. It’s been <em>years</em>. Why should Leah trust her? Just because they were tentative friends while they were stranded on an island when they literally had almost no other options?</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to tell me,” Fatin adds quickly, and now she just sounds like a fucking idiot. Maybe she should’ve asked Dot to make this call. “I mean, you <em>can</em> –”</p><p> </p><p>“Fatin.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin shuts up. She hears Leah inhale again, shakier this time, and Fatin stands from the bed to start pacing around her bedroom. There isn’t a ton of room for her to pace; Dot got the larger room because when they first moved in, Dot hauled all their boxes up three flights of stairs by herself. And unpacked most of them by herself, too. She said it was fine, as long as she got the bigger room, so. Who was Fatin to deny her that pleasure?</p><p> </p><p>“Why would we pay someone to do this?” Dot had laughed. “What a fucking waste of money.” But since Dot’s price for her unpaid manual labor was the larger room, Fatin’s here struggling to pace around because her bed and dresser and desk take up so much damn space.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” Leah finally says. “I appreciate the call. Really do.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you’re not, like, flipping out?” Fatin asks. She winces again. She probably could’ve phrased that better.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, honestly, I can’t say I’m doing amazing,” Leah admits.</p><p> </p><p>“Right, no, of course,” Fatin says. She inhales sharply then forces herself to say the words before she can decide not to say them at all. “If you’re not busy this weekend, you should totally come visit me and Dorothy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Leah says, and she sounds genuinely shocked at the proposition.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah!” Fatin says, pumping as much enthusiasm into that one word as she can muster up, even though her heart is pounding wildly and she feels like she can barely breathe. “Seriously. We’ll come pick you up and take you home. Maybe I’ll even give up my bed for you. Come on. This is, like, long overdue.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fatin, that’s a long drive –”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope. No excuses. Unless you have, like, actual work to do or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah goes silent again, and Fatin tries not to be impatient. “Okay,” Leah concedes.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Leah says. “I’ll text you my address.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, amazing! I’ll see you, um…how’s Friday night, actually? So we can have, like, a full two days together.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’ll work.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>They hang up without saying goodbye, and Fatin exhales heavily as the front door slams shut.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey, I’m home!” Dot shouts, like she does every day, as Fatin emerges from her bedroom. Dot drops her bag to the floor and sets the pizza on the counter, smirking. “Dinner’s here,” Dot informs, waving her hand over the pizza box. “I charged it on your card. Hope you don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re bringing Leah here for the weekend,” Fatin blurts. “Like, I told her we’d pick her up on Friday.”</p><p> </p><p>Dot’s eyebrows raise. Then she shrugs and opens the box of pizza, immediately digging in. “I guess I’ll be driving then?” Dot says through her mouthful.</p><p> </p><p>“Swallow, bitch, and then talk,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tell me to swallow.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe bringing Leah into their home – and into their unusual friendship – isn’t exactly a good idea.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this is the fucking address, so, I’d say it’s it,” Dot retorts. She puts the truck in park – because as soon as Jeep put out a pickup truck, Dot <em>had </em>to have it, and who is Fatin to deny Dot something as simple as the pickup truck of her dreams? Dot has to put up with all the extra lesbian jokes from Fatin, but hey, it’s only fair. And if Dot’s gonna drive a pickup truck, she can’t expect Fatin <em>not </em>to make lesbian jokes. It’s too easy. And that’s not even considering all the flannel Dot wears in the winter. With her cargo pants. Dot is like if God made a lesbian but forgot to actually make her attracted to women. Dot hops out of the truck and makes her way around to yank Fatin’s door open. “You coming or what?” Dot asks.</p><p> </p><p>“What? You can’t carry Leah’s bags out here by yourself?” Fatin teases.</p><p> </p><p>Dot rolls her eyes. “You know, Leah was always more your friend than mine, so it’d make more sense for you to show up at her door.”</p><p> </p><p>“This seriously can’t be where she’s living,” Fatin replies. “This place is huge.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe it’s a sorority.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, don’t say that. Living with a bunch of women? What a nightmare,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>Dot scoffs. “We did it for, how long?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t remind me,” Fatin grumbles. She gets out of the truck once Dot holds her hand out to assist her. Fatin straightens out her shirt, and if living with Dot has changed any one thing about Fatin, it’s probably her sense of style. Gone are the days of T-shirts with trendy phrases on them – well, not entirely, but Fatin’s wardrobe has certainly expanded now. Like, for instance, the black tank top she’s wearing right now has absolutely no writing on it. And Fatin isn’t even bothered by its blandness – that much.</p><p> </p><p>“Nervous?” Dot questions, and Fatin curses that woman for somehow always knowing how she’s feeling.</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all,” Fatin lies. She flashes a smile, flips her hair out of her eyes. “Lock the truck.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re coming right back – oh, whatever,” Dot mutters, and the Gladiator beeps loudly to confirm that it is, in fact, locked now. Dot pushes Fatin to the front. “Go knock on the door.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin hesitates, but she bangs her fist against the wood a few times then takes a full step back. A woman answers the door, but it’s not Leah. Before Fatin can say anything, this girl – bleach blonde hair that reminds Fatin of the Shelby she first met, piercings scattered across her face, tattoos covering every fucking inch of exposed skin, minus her face but including her neck – smiles and says, “Oh, shit! I guess you’re here for Lee.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s eyebrows pull together. “Lee? You mean Lee-<em>uh</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, right,” the girl says, waving her hand. “Yeah, she’ll just be a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>The girl stands in the doorway and stares at them for so long, Dot finally clears her throat and says, “So…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” the girl says, shaking her head. “Lee didn’t say her friends were hot.”</p><p> </p><p>Dot busts out laughing while Fatin just grins, rolls her eyes. Nothing new. She claps Dot on the back a few times and says, “Get it together, girl. You have to drive us back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should take a fucking turn,” Dot says. “Maybe I’m tired of driving your pampered ass around. But God, I needed that laugh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Michelle?”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s smile slides at the sound of a familiar, gravelly voice, and Dot stands up straighter. “Oh, shit,” Dot breathes, and Fatin resists the urge to elbow her in the gut. Blonde bitch – Michelle? – steps out of the way, and Fatin lays eyes on Leah in person for the first time since – fuck, four, five years ago? The last time Fatin saw Leah was, like, a year after their vacation from hell. How did so much time pass?</p><p> </p><p>“I was just leaving,” Michelle announces, and she spins around and disappears into the house. A loud chorus of giggling carries from another unseen room, and Fatin refocuses her attention on Leah. She looks different, yet somehow she’s also exactly how Fatin remembers. Except for the nerdy yet actually super cute glasses on her face. Those are definitely new. And Leah’s got her hair tied back in a rather sloppy bun. But Leah’s still wearing a cardigan, still wearing her mom jeans. She’s got a backpack over her shoulder and a duffel bag in her hand, and Fatin snaps out of whatever trance she suddenly went into.</p><p> </p><p>“Dorothy, don’t be so rude,” Fatin says, smacking her hand against Dot’s shoulder. “Get Leah’s bag.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I don’t remember agreeing to be your personal bitch when we moved in together,” Dot replies, but she holds her hand out, and Leah passes her the duffel bag, a grin slowly spreading across Leah’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, so it turns out I really missed you guys,” Leah laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you missed our bickering?” Fatin guesses. “Trust me, there’ll be plenty more to come.” Fatin mentally tells herself to stop being weird and lifts her arm, motioning for Leah to move toward her. “Come on. Bring it in. You know you want to.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah’s eyes – God, Fatin forgot how fucking blue they are – roll, but she smiles and steps into the offered embrace, looping her arms loosely around Fatin’s waist. Fatin <em>also </em>forgot that Leah is irritatingly taller than her. After a few moments, Dot jabs Fatin in the side and says, “Hurry up. It’s a long drive back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Fatin says, releasing her hold on Leah. Leah hugs Dot quickly, not lingering nearly as long as she had with Fatin, and Fatin tries not to overthink that. Overthinking is <em>so </em>not her thing, and Leah never exactly made it look like an attractive habit. “So,” Fatin says as they walk over to the truck, “what are you doing living with people like that?” Fatin asks.</p><p> </p><p>Leah smiles sheepishly. “It’s sort of a long story.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, start talking. It’s a long ride.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Fatin sleeps half the ride, only waking up when Dot shoves her legs off the dashboard. Fatin jerks upright, eyes wide, and – like every once in a while – Fatin thinks she’s back on that godforsaken island. But then Fatin’s brain registers the interior of the Jeep, her hands feel the smooth fucking <em>pleather </em>seats, and she’s back in reality.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Dot says, eyebrows pulling together. “You good?”</p><p> </p><p>It takes Fatin a moment to find her voice. “Yeah. Yeah, totally. Just – weird dream.”</p><p> </p><p>“Weird how?” Dot asks, disregarding the fact that Leah’s still in the back seat, capable of hearing every word of their conversation. “Weird, like, a weird sex dream, or like one of the <em>back in Hell </em>dreams.”</p><p> </p><p>They don’t like to say “the island” when they don’t have to. Calling it “Hell” somehow makes it easier to deal with, even all these years later. Fatin rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and mutters, “It wasn’t a weird sex dream, Dorothy. You know I love to share those with you. It was nothing. I don’t even remember it.”</p><p> </p><p>And that’s enough to get Dot to stop worrying. “Come on,” Dot calls. She takes Leah’s bag and slings it across her shoulder. “We’re on the third floor.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin checks her phone, having no idea what time it might be. Just after midnight. “Lock the truck!” Fatin shouts after Dot, and a moment later, it beeps. As responsible as Dot usually is, that bitch can never seem to remember to lock their shit. Dot starts climbing stairs, gets all the way up to their apartment while Fatin’s still standing with Leah at the bottom of the steps. Even though Leah and Fatin both know Leah is only here because Fatin’s suddenly worried about her because of the new development in Galanis’s world, neither brings it up. “Let’s go up then,” Fatin says. “And I know it’s late, but I’m having a drink.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please tell me you have something other than straight vodka,” Leah says.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin snorts. “There is no vodka allowed in our apartment.”</p><p> </p><p>They climb the three flights of stairs, reach the apartment, and the door’s still wide open. Fatin motions for Leah to go ahead first and pulls the door shut behind them, latching it. Dot’s already spread out on the couch in front of the TV, a beer in hand.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a terrible host, Dorothy,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Dot says. “I put Leah’s bag in your room, didn’t I? What else was I supposed to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah snickers, and Fatin rolls her eyes. “Here,” Fatin says. “I’ll give you a quick tour, since there really isn’t much space in here anyway, and then we’ll finish off Dorothy’s case of shitty beer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin leaves her room for last after quickly showing Leah around the kitchen, living room, and bathroom. Fatin points at the room that belongs to Dot then steps into her own bedroom and flips the light on.</p><p> </p><p>“I ended up with the smaller room,” Fatin says. “I made a deal with Dorothy, since she carried all our shit up here by herself.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’m kind of surprised that you guys actually made this happen,” Leah admits. She drops her backpack onto the floor next to her duffel bag then crams her hands into her pockets. She doesn’t seem to know what to do now that she’s standing in Fatin’s room, surrounded by Fatin’s belongings. Leah’s eyes wander around the room, from the lavender colored walls to the photographs Fatin has hanging above her desk. Fatin and Dot managed to get the walls painted a shade of lavender during one weekend, and that ended with them slamming back shots and spending the night on the bathroom floor together. Fatin smiles faintly at the memory.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well,” Fatin says with a shrug, “I guess it was just meant to happen.” There’s a slight pause while Leah’s eyes continue to travel around the room, seeking out the stacks of sheet music on Fatin’s desk and then the cello case shoved in the corner. Fatin flinches as she sees where Leah’s staring and she quickly says, “Hey, I love the whole glasses look you’ve got going on. So wait – could you not see the entire time on the island?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah’s fingertips touch the corner of her glasses, lips parting momentarily before she answers, “No, um, I see fine. They’re mostly for reading, but –”</p><p> </p><p>“But you wear them fulltime for the aesthetic, right?” Fatin says. “It’s cool. You can say it.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah grins, cheeks flush in a way that tells Fatin that she’s right. “Yeah, well, apparently you can pull off any hairstyle you want,” Leah says, and her face reddens a little more. “I’ve seen your posts.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve <em>liked </em>my posts,” Fatin corrects, and they laugh together even though it’s really not that funny.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, are you two ever gonna join me out here or what?” Dot shouts, and Fatin rolls her eyes overdramatically.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, can you give Leah, like, two minutes to see everything?” Fatin shouts back.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve given you plenty of minutes!”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, if you’re too tired, you don’t have to stay up with us,” Fatin tells Leah.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a Friday night,” Leah says, “and I’m a graduate student. I think I’ll be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Graduate student</em>,” Fatin teases. “You fucking nerd. And that’s not even counting your glasses.”</p><p> </p><p>“You just said you liked them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I totally do,” Fatin says. “They really suit you.” Fatin hesitates, but fuck it. “You look good.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah hums, nods. “Yeah. You too.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin doesn’t want to linger in this suddenly strange moment. She leads the way out of the bedroom back to the kitchen where she snatches two beers out of the fridge, tosses one Leah’s way. She’s pleasantly surprised that Leah catches it with ease, but honestly, Fatin would’ve loved to see the can hit the floor and bust open just as much. She could use the entertainment.</p><p> </p><p>“Scoot over,” Fatin tells Dot, and when Dot doesn’t budge, Fatin shoves at her until she finally slides to the end of the couch, making enough space for both Fatin and Leah to join her. Fatin immediately turns to drape her legs across Dot’s lap, and Dot rests her arms against Fatin’s legs, her eyes never leaving the TV. “What’re you watching?” Fatin asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. Some paranormal shit,” Dot answers. She tosses the remote into Fatin’s lap. “But you can choose something else.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin gasps. “Dorothy! You never let me pick.”</p><p> </p><p>“Special occasion. Don’t get used to it.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Dot turns in for the night first, sometime around two a.m., after downing three beers and complaining that her back is killing her. She pats Fatin on the head then pushes her for good measure, ignoring Fatin’s protests. Dot grasps onto Leah’s shoulder briefly, says something like <em>thanks for coming out </em>and <em>don’t let Fatin be a dick to you</em>, then heads off into her bedroom. Some rerun of a mindless reality show is on the TV, but with Dot not here to offer up any commentary, it’s not long before Fatin stops paying attention to it.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Leah says slowly as Fatin finishes off her third beer and cracks open a fourth, “how long have you and Dot been, uh…together?”</p><p> </p><p>“Together?” Fatin questions. She chugs half the fourth beer in one go then exhales. “You mean like how long have we lived together or what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I meant more like –”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s hand shoots out to grasp onto Leah’s bicep as Fatin’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. You totally think Dorothy and I are, what? Fucking? Oh my <em>God</em>, or did you think we’re <em>dating</em>? Oh my God, <em>Leah</em>,” Fatin laughs. “Leah!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, can you blame me? Look at you two. You’re acting all, like, coupley and shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin swipes a tear away. “Yeah, we aren’t dating. See, I <em>knew </em>people would think something was up. She’s got to stop wearing those cargo pants, I swear.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah stares at Fatin curiously. “So what? If you’re not with Dot – what’ve you been up to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Up to?” Fatin says, smirking. “You mean who have I been fucking?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um – no, not really?”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin waves her hand dismissively and leans back into the couch, setting her feet up on the coffee table and crossing her ankles. “Actually, I kind of – I don’t know, stopped fucking random strangers? Not completely, but – I don’t know. Shit’s been different these last few years.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right,” Leah says. And for the first time that night, she pulls the glasses off and hooks them on the collar of her shirt. Leah pulls her hair free of the messy bun, runs her fingers through it. And <em>this </em>is the Leah that Fatin remembers so well. Except without any sunburn or dirt or peeling skin.</p><p> </p><p>“My life’s pretty boring now, actually,” Fatin continues, since Leah doesn’t seem to want to fill the silence. “Well, as boring as it can get when you’re living with Dot.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah nods, and her eyes are getting this sort of faraway look in them, so Fatin reaches over and grabs onto Leah’s wrist, pulling Leah’s eyes to her face. “What?” Leah prompts when Fatin doesn’t speak.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you?” Fatin asks. “Like, really? How’ve you been doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah shrugs, gently pulls Fatin’s hand off her wrist. “I’m fine,” she says.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on. Don’t be a mysterious bitch about it,” Fatin says. “Just tell me like it is, okay? We almost died together, multiple times. I think we can at least be honest.” Fatin’s eyes flick toward Dot’s bedroom, but the door is shut, and Fatin’s almost positive Dot would’ve knocked out the moment she laid down. “It’s just you and me,” Fatin assures Leah.</p><p> </p><p>Leah sighs, presses her hands against each side of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut momentarily. “Really, though,” Leah says. She lets her hands drop, meets Fatin’s gaze again. “I’ve been doing fine. At least I was until that news broke.”</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t just you.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah shakes her head, clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It wasn’t just me,” she agrees, and her voice breaks ever so slightly. “It’s kinda funny when I look back at it, you know? How I thought I was so fucking special, but he fucked up the lives of, like, what? Nine girls? Well, ten if you include me. But he had me thinking I was different. Special. I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are,” Fatin says. “Special. But not because of anything to do with him.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah nods wearily. “Sure, Fatin.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, it really looks like you’ve built a whole-ass life for yourself,” Fatin points out. “Living with a bunch of <em>women</em>, and, like, being all intellectual and shit.” Fatin reaches over and flicks at the glasses hanging from Leah’s shirt. “Even got yourself a pair of nerd glasses. Seems like success to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah cracks a smile, though her eyes are a little shiny. “Thanks, Fatin.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin finishes off her beer and nods. “Oh, anytime. You ever need a confidence boost, you know who to call.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry to, uh, ruin the fun, but I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” Leah says.</p><p> </p><p>“Plenty of fun to go around tomorrow,” Fatin replies. “My room’s all set up for you. I changed the sheets and everything, so you’re good to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? No, I’ll be fine on the couch,” Leah says.</p><p> </p><p>“Leah, you aren’t sleeping on the fucking couch. This thing is horrific. Trust me. But don’t worry, I can handle it for a couple nights. No couch can hurt my back in the way that this one guy did – anyway, that’s a long story, but I can sleep on the couch. So go. Take my room.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God, don’t make me make you.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah smiles again. “It’s cute that you think you can make me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I totally can. I’ve had four beers. I’m ready. Let’s go, Rilke. Square up.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re drunk, Fatin. Go sleep in your bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope. Besides, I’m not done watching – um, whatever this show is.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah grabs the remote and switches the TV off. “Now you don’t have any excuses. Go on.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Fatin says, and it’s probably because she’s drunk, “we slept next to each other on that fucking nightmare of an island more than once. The bed’s big enough –”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Leah cuts in.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s brain is behind, but she hears herself say, “Okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, whatever, if it’ll get this conversation to end faster,” Leah says, but she flashes Fatin a smile, and then Leah bites down on her lower lip, almost shyly, and Fatin grins at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Fatin agrees. “Do you want the bathroom first, or should I –?”</p><p> </p><p>“You go right ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Fatin splashes water on her face, glaring at herself in the mirror. “Sober up, you dumb bitch,” she hisses at her reflection. “This is <em>so </em>not the time to do anything stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin doesn’t know what she’s expecting her reflection to do, so she tears her eyes away from it and stares down into the sink. She realizes there’s nothing stopping her from leaving the bathroom and making a beeline for the couch instead. Yeah. That’s what she’s going to do. Except when she opens the bathroom door, Leah’s perched on the couch, glasses resting on top of her head, phone in hand. She’s texting someone, smiling to herself, at least until she realizes Fatin’s walking out of the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Done?” Leah questions. She stands, tucking her phone in her pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Fatin motions toward Leah, says, “So, whoever you were texting must be something special –”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just Ian,” Leah dismisses. “Sometimes he can be funny, believe it or not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Fatin says. Her eyes drift over to the open couch. “Right.”</p><p> </p><p>“And don’t even think about it,” Leah says, pointing a finger at Fatin. “If I find your ass on that couch when I get out of the bathroom, we’ll be forced to fight.”</p><p> </p><p>“God, fine,” Fatin whines. “I’ll sleep in the fucking bed or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>“We both know I can take you,” Leah chuckles. “So yeah, get your ass in that bed.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin swallows hard. So maybe she kind of developed a thing for Leah while they were in Hell together. Do you blame her? Fatin didn’t have an orgasm for <em>months</em>. It’s not exactly surprising she’d start looking at the others differently, and her options were very limited. Besides, nothing ever happened. Fatin cracked jokes about it – not just about the idea of sleeping with Leah, no. Fatin’s not stupid. She made plenty of jokes about Dot, too. And Toni, before she got openly involved with Shelby. But nothing happened. Fatin just became aware that maybe she sorta had a thing for Leah while they were struggling to survive, but Fatin never gave herself shit about it, because Leah’s obviously hot, and Fatin has good taste. Besides, it’s mostly went away while they’ve been separated the last few years, but now Leah’s here, looking like some giant fucking nerd straight out of Fatin’s dreams, and –</p><p> </p><p>No. Fatin’s not going there. She can handle this. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t consider, at least for a few moments, joining Dot in her bed instead. Dot would make fun of her for the next ten years, but it might be easier to deal with than spending the night with Leah. Fatin hurries to her bedroom before Leah can come out of the bathroom to find her stuck standing in the same spot as before. Fatin doesn’t shut the door before changing into shorts and a faded band T-shirt that Fatin stole from Dot, like, a year ago. Oh well. Dot hasn’t asked for it back. And Fatin never bothers to close the door when she changes. Nothing Dot hasn’t accidentally seen – nothing Dot hasn’t <em>rejected</em>, probably a hundred times by now. Which is rude. She knows exactly what Fatin has to offer and <em>still </em>says no? Yeah, Dot is straight, and that’s a total tragedy.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s back is to the door, shirt only halfway over her head, when she hears, “Oh, shit. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin yanks her shirt down then turns to face Leah in the doorway. “What do you have to be sorry for?” Fatin replies. “I’m the one that left the door open. Besides, I did sort of waltz around in next to nothing during, um, our time together.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah smirks. “Yeah, I remember.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you noticed?” Fatin teases.</p><p> </p><p>Leah laughs. “Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>And that’s not a <em>no</em>. Fatin smiles to herself and pulls the covers back on the bed. “Stay on your side,” Fatin says. She drops down onto the bed and burrows beneath the sheets. She positions herself as close to the edge of the mattress as possible without being at risk of actually falling off. She feels the other side of the bed shift as Leah gets in, and a lovely, tense silence settles around them.</p><p> </p><p>“So that tattoo on your back,” Leah says.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm? What of it?”</p><p> </p><p>“It looks an awful lot like the one Dot’s got on her arm.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, maybe we got matching tattoos,” Fatin says defensively. “And?”</p><p> </p><p>That’s enough to send them both into a fit of giggles, which Fatin will later blame on the alcohol.</p><p> </p><p>“And you were surprised that I thought you and Dot were dating?” Leah says. “You live together, you flirt with each other like your lives depend on it, and you’ve both inked the same image onto your bodies.”</p><p> </p><p>“What can I say?” Fatin says. “It’s the most stable relationship I’ve ever had, and we’re not even fucking. Oh my God, I totally forgot to tell you, but our Dorothy has a <em>boyfriend</em>. I don’t think she ever made it, like, Facebook official or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, really?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. I was shocked, too. I mean, I thought she was lying to me this entire time about not being a lesbian. Even though if she was a lesbian, I would think she’d make an actual move on me at some point, and she hasn’t. But yeah, her boyfriend’s not <em>my </em>type, but he’s pretty hot – Leah?”</p><p> </p><p>Sometime between Leah’s question and Fatin’s unnecessarily long answer, Leah started crying. It’s pretty out of nowhere, given that they were just talking about Dot’s boyfriend – and Fatin just assumes it’s about that pedo, Galanis. Must be the boyfriend talk. Fatin’s pretty sure that whatever the fuck was going on between Leah and Galanis, all those years ago, Leah saw it as a serious relationship. Fucking Jeff Galanis; if Fatin ever gets anywhere near that fucker, she swears she’ll strangle the life out of him with her bare hands.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin instinctively slides closer to the middle of the bed, toward Leah, tentatively reaching a hand out. “Leah. Hey. It’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Actually, nothing is okay, but that’s not a helpful sentiment. Fatin’s hand hovers over Leah’s…shoulder? Fatin isn’t sure what she’s trying to do. She hasn’t had to deal with someone crying in, like, years. Dot isn’t one for crying – or if she is, she’s never done it around Fatin. No, they drown their sorrows in alcohol and wake up passed out on the floor together. Dot and Fatin don’t process their shit through tears. And that works perfectly fine for them. But as Fatin realizes she doesn’t know what to <em>do</em>, Leah rolls toward her, tucks her head beneath Fatin’s chin, flinging an arm across Fatin’s waist and a leg across both of Fatin’s legs. And as stunned as Fatin is, she manages to close her arms around Leah.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin can’t help but to feel like this is her fault, so she stays quiet. Fatin just holds on as Leah sobs into her chest, dampening Dot’s faded band tee. Fatin knows Leah will eventually cry herself out, and she does, but Fatin doesn’t quite expect Leah to fall asleep right there with her head on her tits. So Fatin, who is pretty fucking sober by now, lies awake half the night, trapped beneath Leah, feeling Leah’s chest steadily rising and falling against her.</p><p> </p><p>God, if Dot saw them like this, Fatin can only <em>imagine </em>what she might say. So then Fatin can’t sleep because her mind keeps throwing nightmare scenarios at her, like Dot walking in and spending the rest of the weekend making gay jokes. And Fatin <em>knows </em>Dot would give her shit. Fatin knows it for a fact. She made the mistake of bringing a woman back to the apartment <em>one time </em>when Dot was supposed to be out with Mateo, and Fatin still hasn’t heard the end of it.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been giving <em>me </em>shit about being a lesbian when I’m <em>not</em>,” Dot had laughed, “and <em>you’re </em>the one who comes back with a <em>woman</em> after <em>you </em>made that comment about immediately fornicating with a healthy penis!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s not how it worked out, okay?” Fatin had retorted, and they both had a good laugh about it later, but Dot still brings it up once in a while. Especially when Fatin insinuates that Dot’s secretly a lesbian; then Dot usually replies with something like <em>says the woman who actually fucks women.</em></p><p> </p><p>So Fatin doesn’t exactly sleep, at least not until Leah wakes up and shifts away from her on her own, somewhere close to five in the morning. Fatin pretends to be asleep while Leah resituates herself on the other side of the bed. Fatin doesn’t fall asleep until she’s positive Leah’s sleeping again.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ! Dorothy!”</p><p> </p><p>Dot grins, jumping back from the bed before Fatin can smack her while she’s trying to detangle herself from the sheets. “It’s late,” Dot informs. “And we promised to give Leah the full L.A. experience, baby. Get your ass in gear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Late” is actually nine in the morning, meaning Fatin scraped together <em>maybe </em>four hours of sleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Get the fuck out of here,” Fatin grumbles. She whips one of the bed’s pillows in Dot’s direction, but Dot easily avoids it, chuckling to herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Fatin!” Dot yells from the living room five minutes later, causing Fatin’s eyes to pop back open. “Come on! Get your lazy ass out of bed!”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin gets up, hair messy, yesterday’s makeup still smudged on her face, and as she heads for the bathroom, she realizes it’s occupied. “Fuck,” she groans.</p><p> </p><p>“You look like you had a rough night,” Dot observes. She’s on the couch in front of the TV – but to Fatin’s surprise, Mateo’s on the couch next to her, his arm around her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“You could’ve warned me that your boyfriend was here,” Fatin says, and if she had something to throw at Dot, she would totally be throwing it right now. “I’m <em>way </em>underdressed.”</p><p> </p><p>“He doesn’t care what you look like, Fatin,” Dot snorts. “You’re not his type.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not even close,” Fatin mutters. She can’t hold back her smile as Dot cracks a beer open – at <em>nine </em>in the morning – and Fatin’s smile only grows as Mateo snatches it away from her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, come on,” Dot whines. “If I have to spend all day in downtown Los Angeles with the self-appointed princess of fucking California and the sulkiest member of the Unsinkable Eight, I’m going to need more than just one beer to get me through it.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s smile slides. “Don’t call us that,” she says.</p><p> </p><p>Dot pauses. “Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“The Unsinkable Eight. Don’t call us that. And Leah’s not the sulkiest one. That title totally goes to Rachel.”</p><p> </p><p>Dot rolls her eyes. “Fatin, please, we all know you’ve got a soft spot for Leah, but she is the sulkiest one, even now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, well, either way. Don’t call us that name. And I’m not the princess of California. I’m the motherfucking queen.”</p><p> </p><p>Mateo sighs as Dot loses her shit over that one, and things instantly go back to normal, like they usually do. Moments later, the bathroom door opens, and Fatin shoves her way past Leah, shedding clothing before she’s even in the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! Not in front of Mateo!” Dot shouts.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin pauses in the doorway long enough to flip Dot off then steps straight into the shower, leaving the bathroom door wide open. She totally does it on purpose, but to be fair, she’s also being rushed. Dot <em>knows </em>Fatin needs <em>at the very least </em>an hour to get ready, and that’s just to knock out the basics.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Fatin!” Dot yells from the living room, loud enough for Fatin to hear her clearly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m still in the shower!” Fatin yells back. “Can’t you hear the water running?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well you went into the shower before Leah was done in the bathroom, dickhead!” Then Dot’s voice gets a hell of a lot closer when she says, “And you left the door open, so I’m giving her permission to come in.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s lucky the shower curtain prevents Dot <em>and </em>Leah from seeing the indignant expression that crosses her face. “Okay, whatever,” Fatin just says. “I mean, I’m almost done.”</p><p> </p><p>Dot snorts. “Yeah, no you aren’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Okay, so she’s not. Showering is one thing that hellhole taught Fatin not to take for granted anymore, alongside indoor plumbing, electricity, and takeout.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Leah says, sounding sort of sheepish. “But I kind of left all my shit in here.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, yeah, that was my fault for assuming you were done,” Fatin replies. “Take your time.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin hears the door shut, and she immediately pokes her head out of the shower curtain to see what’s up. Leah raises her eyebrows. And yeah, if Fatin would’ve taken five seconds to look at Leah, she would’ve known Leah wasn’t done in the bathroom, because she’s standing in her <em>matching </em>panties and bra, and her hair’s still dripping.</p><p> </p><p>“Why’d you close the door?” Fatin questions. “Because, you know, it’d be totally wrong of you to join me when Dot and Mateo are right out there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus, Fatin,” Leah laughs. “I closed the door so Dot wouldn’t hear me say that her boyfriend is hot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Right.” Fatin pulls her head back into the shower fully. “He’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you almost sound jealous,” Leah teases. Fatin hears Leah rustling through her bag, and Fatin closes her eyes, rinsing soap from her body.</p><p> </p><p>“Jealous of Dorothy or Mateo?” Fatin jokes. It gets another laugh from Leah before Fatin adds, “Yeah, I’m not jealous. I’m glad things are working out for them. She seems happy with him.”</p><p> </p><p>And it’s weird, how Dot and Fatin do this exact thing on days where Dot has to get ready for work while Fatin’s in the shower, and it doesn’t bother Fatin one bit to have Dot three feet away, separated by only a shower curtain. But now that it’s Leah standing three feet away, separated from Fatin’s naked ass by only a shower curtain, Fatin feels like she can barely breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’ve never struck me as the <em>boyfriend stealing</em> type,” Leah replies. “Even though I wouldn’t put it past you to fuck someone else’s boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I’d never keep him,” Fatin agrees. “No. I’m not going to meddle with their shit. Too much. What fun would it be if I never offered them a threesome, though?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah busts out laughing. “Please don’t tell me you’ve actually offered.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, of course I have,” Fatin says. “But don’t worry. It’s never happened. They always shoot me down.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m pretty sure it’s only because Mateo doesn’t particularly like me,” Fatin says. “Well, it’s not that he doesn’t like me, because I don’t think Dorothy would keep him around if he really didn’t, but I think he tolerates me more than anything else. So yeah. He definitely doesn’t want to sleep with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you implying that Dot does?” Leah snorts.</p><p> </p><p>“I think if Mateo was down for a threesome that Dorothy would say yes,” Fatin boasts. “But no, I guess. I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t changed one bit,” Leah says.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to let that shithole <em>break my spirit </em>or whatever the fuck you want to call it.”</p><p> </p><p>The island may not have broken Fatin’s spirit, but it did change her. Maybe in subtler ways than it changed the others. But maybe it’s living with Dot that has really changed Fatin. Small things that feel like they shouldn’t be important but somehow are. The additions – and subtractions – from Fatin’s wardrobe. The shows and movies Fatin’s willing to put up with. The fact that Fatin somehow ends up helping Dot with her DIY projects when Mateo isn’t around.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin shuts the water off. “Heads up,” she says. “I’m coming out in my full glory, and if you don’t want the view, you should look away.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin gives Leah all of five seconds before she yanks the shower curtain back, and if the look Fatin catches on Leah’s face in the moments before she turns her back to Fatin is any indication, Leah definitely got an eyeful.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin smirks. “I warned you.” She grabs her towel off the hook, wraps it around her body, and heads for her bedroom. “Hey!” she calls, watching as Dot and Mateo jump apart. “Do not be defiling the couch while we have a guest,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off,” Dot replies. “Go put some clothes on.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Fatin isn’t ready until almost noon, so they end up going straight to lunch first. Leah’s eyes widen when she sees the bill, and Fatin slaps her credit card down onto the table before Mateo can say something about splitting the check.</p><p> </p><p>“Lunch is on me,” Fatin announces as the waiter’s walking off with her card.</p><p> </p><p>“Fatin, what the fuck?” Leah says. “You can’t do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just did,” Fatin says. She pulls out her compact mirror, reapplies her lipstick. Fatin hasn’t looked this good in <em>ages</em>. She really hasn’t had a proper excuse to try so hard. For some reason, spending hours to get ready to search for a random guy in a club became a lot less appealing when Fatin returned to normal society. Not that she doesn’t sometimes do it, but she’s finding that, more often than not, it ends up being a wasted effort. Fatin smiles at the waiter as he hands her the credit card and receipt back, and she notices a name and phone number scrawled at the bottom. She smiles to herself. It’s nice to know she’s still got it.</p><p> </p><p>The waiter is cute and all – shit, his eyes are gorgeous, and so is his ass – but Fatin crumples the receipt up in her hand and throws it in the trash on their way out.</p><p> </p><p>“Did that guy give you his number?” Dot asks, because that bitch doesn’t miss a thing.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Fatin says, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>“What’d you throw it out for? He was hot as hell,” Dot exclaims. She glances over at Mateo, but he seems totally unbothered. “I mean – for you. Obviously.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not worth my time,” Fatin says, and she leaves it at that. “So where should we shop first?”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Fatin doesn’t remember all of them deciding to end up in a club after the sun sets, but it happens. And Dot and Mateo disappear into the crowd almost immediately, leaving Fatin alone with Leah. And this so isn’t Leah’s scene. No, Leah’s typical scene is, like, a fucking university library. So Fatin grabs onto Leah’s wrist and immediately pulls her toward the bar.</p><p> </p><p>All it takes is two drinks and one eyeful of Dot and Mateo grinding on each other to convince Fatin that it’s time to dance. And Leah’s coming with her whether she wants to or not, but Leah slammed back three shots of tequila in quick succession, so Fatin figures she’s as ready as she’s ever gonna be. Leah doesn’t even argue when Fatin grabs her hand and pulls her along. They melt into the sea of bodies, and Fatin forgets about the fact that Dot’s even in this club with them.</p><p> </p><p>And maybe Fatin was wrong about clubs not being Leah’s scene, because Leah can definitely dance. Just one more thing Fatin’s misjudged about Leah. They’re in each other’s space out of necessity, but Fatin’s heart still hammers in her chest. And it’s easy for Fatin to pretend like nothing’s up. She’s very good at maintaining a poker face or only projecting the emotions that she wants to project. Fatin’s got just enough of a buzz going to override the thought that <em>maybe </em>she shouldn’t be staring at Leah’s lips, or watching the way Leah’s hips move. Oh, and Leah definitely catches Fatin staring, like, straight at her chest, but Leah’s shirt is low cut, so what does she expect? Fatin used to be able to read Leah pretty well, but it’s been six years since their stay in Hell, and when Fatin’s eyes lift from Leah’s chest and meet Leah’s gaze – well, Fatin doesn’t know what the fuck she’s seeing in Leah’s fucking gorgeous eyes. Leah smiles, and her teeth sink into her lower lip, and she keeps dancing like nothing happened.</p><p> </p><p>But then Leah’s hands land at Fatin’s hips, and that’s more than Fatin can currently take. “Hey,” Fatin shouts, “Do you think maybe we could get some air?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah just nods, leads the way toward the exit. Fatin can breathe a little easier when the night air hits her face, with the pounding music left behind them.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” Leah asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Fatin says quickly. “Just getting claustrophobic or whatever,” she lies.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s cool,” Leah says. She jams her hands into her pockets, offers Fatin a small smile. “Clubs kind of aren’t my thing, anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would’ve never guessed,” Fatin says sincerely. “You got <em>moves</em>, Rilke,” she teases, jabbing her finger into Leah’s stomach. Leah laughs, rolls her eyes, and knocks Fatin’s hand away all at once.</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin shrugs. Before she can respond, two more people come rushing out of the club, and it takes her a second, because they’re attached at the face, but Fatin realizes it’s Dot and Mateo.</p><p> </p><p>“Dorothy!”</p><p> </p><p>Dot pulls away from Mateo long enough to dig her hand into the pocket of her cargo pants, grab her key ring, and throw it straight into Fatin’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re getting an Uber,” Dot hurries to say, Mateo’s lips pressing to her neck. Fatin and Leah stare at them in disbelief as Dot adds, “See you tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess we’ve got the apartment to ourselves tonight,” Fatin says. She locates the Jeep key on Dot’s key ring and holds it up. “Want to get out of here?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t drive,” Leah says suddenly, grabbing Fatin’s hand – and technically, also the keys.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t drink nearly as much as you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Still, you aren’t sober.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re two blocks away,” Fatin says. “I think we’ll make it.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it’s only two blocks, we should just walk it and come back for the car later,” Leah points out.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin hums, nods to herself. “So this is why you’re a grad student. You got all the bright ideas, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah chuckles, holds her arm out. Fatin shakes her head but loops their arms together. Fatin reaches over and shoves the keys into Leah’s back pocket, and when Leah protests, Fatin says, “Well, I’d put them in my pocket, if I had one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t mean you need to grab my ass,” Leah says, knocking her shoulder into Fatin’s.</p><p> </p><p>“I did not grab your ass. I can show you what grabbing your ass looks like,” Fatin jokes. Leah yelps even though Fatin doesn’t even move, and it quickly morphs into an uncontrollable laugh. Leah has to lean into Fatin to stay upright, and Fatin just grins. “You’re a mess, Rilke.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m probably the biggest mess out of the eight of us, huh?” Leah says. There’s still a smile on her face; her eyes are still lit up. She still looks happy in spite of what she just said.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah,” Fatin dismisses. “I mean, it’d be unfair to say Rachel’s a bigger mess, considering the whole shark thing –”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m definitely the biggest mess,” Leah giggles. “I mean, you and Dot have a whole weird, but like, super amazing life. Toni, Shelby, and Martha are all thriving out in Minnesota. Even Rachel has adjusted, and Nora’s back in school…so yeah, it’s definitely me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re doing pretty well, all things considered,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’m going to testify against him,” Leah informs. “There are, like, nine other girls, and they’re all going to testify, too. I don’t see how he won’t end up in prison.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin stops walking, and since her arm is linked through Leah’s, she drags Leah to a halt, too. “Wait, really?” Fatin says as they detangle their arms. “Leah, that’s – I mean, that’s huge.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah shrugs, refuses to meet Fatin’s gaze. “I just thought you should know,” she says. “I’m not, like, sitting around doing nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t think –”</p><p> </p><p>Leah presses her fingers against Fatin’s lips, silencing her. “I wasn’t done,” Leah says, and the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. Fatin motions for her to continue, but Leah doesn’t lower her hand. “Ian must’ve told me a hundred times how fucked up the whole thing with Jeff was, but I didn’t really start to see it – like actually see it for what it was – until we were stuck on that <em>fucking </em>island. Until you said it.” Leah pauses. “Multiple times. And never in the nicest way, but still.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I talk yet?” Fatin asks against Leah’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Leah says. “No, I don’t want you to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I’m actually doing something about it. Like, there’s a court date and everything. And I’m preparing what I’m going to say on the stand.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s eyes widen, and she finally pries Leah’s hand off of her, but she holds onto it with both her own in the space between them. “Don’t tell me you’re going alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not. I’ve got Michelle –”</p><p> </p><p>“The blonde bitch with the tattoos?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah sighs, pushes her hair out of her eyes. “Yeah. Her.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, are you two like…?” Fatin settles for making an obscene gesture instead of straight out asking.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God, <em>no</em>,” Leah laughs, shoving at Fatin. “We’re just friends. Jesus!”</p><p> </p><p>“She called you <em>Lee</em>,” Fatin says, holding her hands up. “Excuse me for thinking maybe something was going on between you. And there’s no way that bitch is straight.”</p><p> </p><p>“She just shortens everyone’s name, no matter what it is,” Leah snorts. They start walking again. “But I am pretty sure she has a thing for me. I don’t know. I’m afraid to ask.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, she totally does,” Fatin laughs. She cuts it short, turns serious. “You know, if you wanted me to go out there to, like, show support or something…I would do it. Like, I wouldn’t mind at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s on a Monday, and it’s, like, a six hour drive for you,” Leah says. “You don’t have to do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I will. I’ll drive in on the Sunday before. Get a fancy ass hotel room. Stay as long as you want me to.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah sniffs, just once, and Fatin studies her face, but again, she’s so much harder to read now. “Yeah, okay,” Leah says. “I’ll think about it. I’ll text you the details.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin nods. “I’d say Dorothy would come, too, but I’m not sure she could get off work. Even though I guess she could straight up quit. Not like we need the money anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, can you not tell her?” Leah asks. “It’s not a huge deal or anything, but I’d rather not –”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know she’s your best friend, and you two have zero boundaries, apparently, and normally I wouldn’t ask you to hold back, but…”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t say anything,” Fatin promises. “I’ll just tell her I’m going to visit you. Besides, she loves having the apartment to herself. She and Mateo defile every inch of it, I’m sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah nods. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin flashes her a smile then points at the building up ahead. “We’re almost home.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Fatin checks her phone once she gets the apartment door open.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Fuckface, 11:10 p.m. </strong> <em>Sorry for running out on you guys like that but you know how it is</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Fuckface, 11:11 p.m. </strong> <em>Let me know when you’re home</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Queen Jadmani, 11:46 p.m. </strong> <em>don’t worry we made it home but we’re gonna have to go back for the truck tomorrow</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Fuckface, 11:47 p.m. </strong> <em>YOU LEFT MY BABY BEHIND??? You were supposed to stay there till you sobered up!!! If I didn’t love you so much I’d kill you</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Fatin smiles to herself, shakes her head. She locks the apartment door and flips the kitchen light on. Leah groans, goes to get herself some water. Fatin leans back against the counter and types out a response.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Queen Jadmani, 11:48 p.m. </strong> <em>hope you’re not texting me while you’re getting some because that would be fucking weird</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>Fuckface, 11:49 p.m. </strong> <em>We took a break but yeah you probably won’t hear from me again tonight so don’t burn the apartment down while I’m gone</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Well, it’s definitely just me and you for the night,” Fatin informs. She pulls her shoes off and chucks them off to the side of the door by Dot’s work boots. Fatin gets to work at removing her hoops. Tonight, she’s going to wipe all the makeup off her face before going to bed. Fatin grabs something to sleep in before disappearing into the bathroom, and she sort of forgets that she should probably close the door when there’s a guest in the apartment, but Dot isn’t here to remind her. Fatin’s just wiping the last bit of makeup from her face when she realizes she’s being watched. Leah has only just walked up, though, and she leans against the doorframe, eyebrows raised.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, it was kind of strange,” Leah says. “Seeing you with a full face of makeup after we spent months, um –”</p><p> </p><p>“In that hellhole,” Fatin finishes. “Yeah. Same goes for you.” Fatin smiles gently. “You may not have gone full-face like I did, but I did notice you didn’t go completely without makeup.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you’d notice.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not as self-absorbed as everyone likes to think,” Fatin jokes.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you’ve already proven that.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin nods and pushes both her hands through her hair, exhaling. “You gonna keep standing there and watching me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hate to disappoint, but I’m done,” Fatin says. “So now you’re just blocking my exit.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah shifts out of the way just enough for Fatin to step out of the bathroom. “You know,” Leah says, and she snags a handful of the back of the same faded band tee that Fatin had slept in the night before, “I didn’t take this as your kind of music.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because it’s not,” Fatin says. “I stole it from Dorothy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that makes more sense.”</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of,” Fatin says, “I can just sleep in her bed tonight. I doubt she’ll mind. Just let me grab a few things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually – do you think you could stay?” Leah asks.</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. “Stay? Like…?” She trails off and points at her own bedroom instead. “With you?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah rolls her eyes. “What else would I mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just checking,” Fatin says. She winks, just to be a dick, and adds, “Consent is super important.” Fatin pauses. “Plus, I don’t know the last time Dorothy changed her sheets, and Mateo might’ve spent the night recently, so –”</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t finish that sentence.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin snickers and obliges, leading the way into her bedroom. She hadn’t bothered to make the bed this morning, mostly because Dot was rushing her. Fatin throws herself down on the same side she’d claimed last night and unlocks her phone, starts scrolling through Instagram while Leah’s getting ready. She likes a post from Shelby, a picture of her and Toni’s latest double date with Martha and her boyfriend – Matthew, according to his profile, and damn, how funny would it have been if his name was Marcus? Fatin debates leaving a comment on the post. She sees Nora has already left a comment then scrolls through the likes to see that Rachel and Leah have also liked the post.</p><p> </p><p><em>You guys are so cute!!! </em>Fatin finally types out. <em>We all totally have to get together sometime soon.</em> She knows Shelby will appreciate the sentiment even if a full reunion is unlikely to happen anytime in the near future. None of them particularly enjoy getting on planes – even though they found out the crash was all a setup not long after they were “rescued.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin hears the bathroom door open, hears Leah’s quiet footsteps in the hall, and looks up just as Leah walks into the room. And Fatin knows she really shouldn’t stare, but Leah has always looked so good so effortlessly. Her glasses are still perched on her nose, and she’s let her hair down from its messy bun. God, somehow she even makes wearing an old baggy shirt look hot –</p><p> </p><p>Fatin should stop right there. She tears her eyes away, reminds herself that if she was going to shoot her shot, she should’ve done it while they were on the island with very limited options. It’s not like Fatin wasn’t presented with any opportunities. Quite the contrary. She had plenty of chances, plenty of time to do something. Somehow, though, once hunger starts hanging over your head every second of every day, everything else sort of gets pushed aside. Even your stupid island crush.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” Leah asks. She sits on the other side of the bed then swings her legs up.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p> </p><p>Leah shrugs. “You looked like you were thinking really hard about something.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, just – it’s nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the fucking island,” Leah says, and Fatin doesn’t have it in her to deny it. “It’s always something stupid that triggers it, isn’t it?” Leah asks. She exhales and leans back against the headboard, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’ll be one thought about something totally unrelated, but somehow, it takes you back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Fatin closes Instagram and sets her phone on the nightstand. “Maybe Jeanette – I mean, Linh – really was the lucky one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fatin –”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Fatin gets out of bed to flick the light off and gets under the covers without another word, even though Leah’s still sitting up and hasn’t even taken her glasses off yet.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve never really wanted to talk about it, Fatin.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin shifts onto her back, glaring up at Leah through the semi-darkness. The light from the streetlamp outside shines through the window, casting a strip of light across Leah’s face. “Because you’ve been just so fucking amazing at talking about all your shit?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a therapist now,” Leah says matter-of-factly. “I’ve had one for the past few years, actually. And that’s probably the main reason I’m willing to sit in front of a room full of strangers and spill everything that happened between me and Jeff. But it’s also helping me process some of the shit that went down while we were struggling to survive.”</p><p> </p><p>Neither mentions the part where everything ended up being manufactured as an experiment. Even if their every movement was tracked, that shit was all real to them. How could it not be?</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t ask for advice,” Fatin replies. “And I don’t need a therapist. I was cleared by the doctors –”</p><p> </p><p>“So was I, and I still had a meltdown in LAX two years later.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Security had to escort me out,” Leah says, and a bitter smile twists its way onto her face. “Fun day.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin pushes herself up, leans back against the headboard while still facing Leah. And Leah just looks…calm. Fatin remembers very well what Leah looked like when she’d start going dark, when shit would get bad, but there’s no trace of any of that right now. She looks good.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you getting at?” Fatin finally asks.</p><p> </p><p>“You can ask for help, too, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin shakes her head. “I’m doing just fine, Leah. I know you wouldn’t know because you’re never around – and I know that’s not entirely your fault – but my life has gone back to normal. At least, it’s as normal as it’s going to get. And frankly, I like my life now.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t just erase those months from your mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Watch me,” Fatin says. “You said I didn’t change, and you’re right. I didn’t let that shithole fundamentally change me. The rest of you might’ve all had epiphanies or whatever, but I just learned to appreciate the simple things in life a little more than I did before.”</p><p> </p><p>“We were lab rats in the world’s most fucked up experiment ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“And we got a massive payout, and Gretchen Klein is in prison for life, and we are <em>set</em>, Leah,” Fatin exclaims. “We can’t just hold onto this shit forever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why does Dot have a job?” Leah asks abruptly.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why does she have a job?” Leah repeats. “You said it yourself. We’re set. We’ve got enough money to last us the rest of our lives, if we budget properly. And it seems like you are, so why does Dot have a job?”</p><p> </p><p>“She needs something to do,” Fatin mutters. “She doesn’t like sitting around.”</p><p> </p><p>“So she’s keeping busy, like always,” Leah observes. “And what’ve you been doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Enjoying the finer things life has to offer without blowing through all my savings,” Fatin says. “Because I don’t want a job.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could do anything –”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’d rather not,” Fatin snaps. “After spending months just trying to stay alive and then finding out it was all just an attempt to see if one woman’s ego was correct? I don’t want to do anything except have fun and check my socials,” Fatin says. Leah sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. When she doesn’t say anything, Fatin adds, “I told you that you weren’t the biggest mess of us all, and I guess I was actually right, huh? You’ve kind of got your shit together, Rilke.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, and you –”</p><p> </p><p>“What about me?” Fatin asks sharply. “I’m holding it together just fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Dot is helping you hold it together,” Leah says. “Just like on the –”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t <em>even </em>get to judge us!” Fatin says, voice raising. Leah’s eyebrows raise as Fatin stops leaning against the headboard, as Fatin leans toward the middle of the bed instead. “So you go to therapy now. Big whoop. You wouldn’t have even made it off that fucking floating rock if it wasn’t for me and Dorothy.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah’s lips part, and Fatin can see Leah’s brain working just by looking into her eyes. She’s not a graduate student for no reason. It may have taken Fatin – and the others – a while to see it, but Leah might’ve actually been the smartest motherfucker on the island. Well, maybe she was tied with Nora for that title.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right,” Leah concedes. “I would’ve completely spun out without you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like you would’ve done much better without me there.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Please,” Leah snorts. “Your toothbrush died and it sent you into crisis mode.”</p><p> </p><p>“That toothbrush was the only thing keeping me sane.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t really believe that.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin hesitates. “Of course not.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah nods. “There’s no reason to pretend, Fatin. It’s just me. And I was there, remember? I lived through all that shit with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Their eyes lock. Damn it, that <em>look </em>on Leah’s face – like she’s challenging Fatin – is driving Fatin fucking crazy. And Fatin can’t take it anymore. The irony isn’t lost on her, considering she was the one who had said <em>consent is important </em>not all that long ago, but she’s tired of Leah trying to make her relive some of the worst months of her life – and psychoanalyze her all at once – so Fatin grabs a fistful of Leah’s baggy shirt and pulls her in. And she should’ve asked for permission, but Leah seems to be expecting this, seems ready. Leah doesn’t resist at all, and her hands grasp onto Fatin’s shoulders then slide to her neck, thumbs pressing against Fatin’s collarbone. Leah unabashedly moans into Fatin's mouth, and Fatin thinks maybe Leah will forgive her for not asking first. Especially since Leah doesn’t push her away. Far from it, actually. One of Leah’s hands slides into Fatin’s hair, and the next thing Fatin knows, she’s being maneuvered on top of Leah without their lips ever breaking apart. Leah’s legs wrap around Fatin’s, their hips pressed together, but it isn’t until Leah’s pulling at the bottom of Fatin’s shirt that Fatin snaps out of it and jerks back.</p><p> </p><p>“Leah,” she breathes. “What are we doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“What we should’ve done six fucking years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I – I shouldn’t have done that,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t see you moving away.”</p><p> </p><p>“I should’ve at least asked –”</p><p> </p><p>Leah rolls her eyes. “You can ask next time.”</p><p> </p><p>A smile flickers on Fatin’s face. She lets Leah pull her shirt off this time. “I thought we were arguing,” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“We can argue later.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin nods. She hesitates a moment, staring into Leah’s eyes. “Keep the glasses on, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, what the <em>fuck</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin jolts awake, instinctively gathering the sheets around her as she realizes Dot’s standing in the doorway. “Can’t you fucking knock?” Fatin demands.</p><p> </p><p>“Dude, you left the door wide fucking open,” Dot replies. She’s half-shielding her eyes with her hand, but she’s grinning. “I’ll be honest, this isn’t what I was expecting to happen, but it kind of makes sense.”</p><p> </p><p>“Get the fuck out!” Fatin says.</p><p> </p><p>“Since when do you care?” Dot scoffs. “Nothing I haven’t already seen a hundred times.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin glares at her. “It’s not about me,” she hisses. She tugs the sheet up a little farther, makes sure Leah’s fully covered.</p><p> </p><p>Leah groans and lifts her head as Dot walks off, laughing to herself. “What happened?” Leah mumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, there’s no keeping a lid on this now,” Fatin says. “Might as well just text all the others that we’ve fucked, because Dorothy’s not going to keep her fucking mouth shut.”</p><p> </p><p>And to Fatin’s surprise, Leah just laughs.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Dot says, popping her head back into the room. Both Fatin and Leah scramble to pull the covers up again, and Dot just rolls her eyes. “Forgot to mention. I went and got the Jeep from that club, so you’re welcome.”</p><p> </p><p>“Out!”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Drive safe. And text me when you’re there.”</p><p> </p><p>“God, Dorothy, we aren’t married,” Fatin jokes. “You don’t need to worry about me so much.”</p><p> </p><p>Dot punches her in the arm, hard but not hard enough to actually hurt. “Guess you aren’t getting a hotel now,” Dot says. “You know. Since you and Leah are all –” Dot cuts herself off to make smooching noises at Fatin.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, I’m totally getting a hotel,” Fatin interrupts. She pushes at Dot’s face to get her to stop. “I’m not spending a week with Leah’s burnout roomies. And I’m <em>definitely </em>not spending a week watching that Michelle bitch, like, pine after my girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your girl,” Dot snorts. “Have you even asked her out yet?”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin hesitates. “No? But please. We’re texting every day now. We’re a thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Dot says slowly, “If you want to move back to the Bay, since <em>your girl </em>lives out there and goes to school there and whatever, I wouldn’t –”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop. I’m not leaving you behind. You know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was gonna say, I wouldn’t mind, because I’ll go with,” Dot says. “Jesus.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s eyebrows raise. “And what about Mateo? You’re gonna break up with him for me and Leah? Dorothy, that’s so sweet –”</p><p> </p><p>“Slow down,” Dot interrupts. “Here’s the thing. Mateo’s already got a job on lock out there, so…we were kinda intending to move out there anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin’s eyes widen. “No. Oh my God. You’re serious?”</p><p> </p><p>“Dead ass.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin grabs Dot by the face and plants one on her cheek. She choose to ignore the disgusted look that crosses Dot’s face. “I’m gonna house hunt while I’m out there,” Fatin tells her. “We’re gonna, like, be next door neighbors until we die. Oh my <em>God</em>, you and Mateo can double date with me and Leah, and then we can out-post Shelby on Instagram. The four of us are way cuter than her and Toni and Martha and Matthew.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your priorities are really skewed,” Dot says. “Your girlfriend-who's-not-your-girlfriend is about to take the stand and try to get that motherfucker locked up for life, and you’re worrying about double dating and Instagram posts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, because I’ll have all week to, like, hold her and cry about it,” Fatin says. “I’m not about to start crying now. I’ll ruin my makeup.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ. Get out of here before I smack you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Love you, too.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>On the day that the jury reads out a verdict of <em>guilty</em> – that motherfucker is <em>guilty</em>, meaning he’s never seeing the outside of a prison cell ever again – Dot and Mateo show up on Fatin and Leah’s doorstep with a cake. And Fatin’s so ecstatic – meaning she’s literally been dancing around the living room for the last hour, even though Leah’s trying to finish a paper – that it takes her way longer than it should to notice the diamond on Dot’s finger.</p><p> </p><p>“No way! He actually fucking put a ring on it!” Fatin exclaims. “Oh, now we’re <em>really </em>celebrating!”</p><p> </p><p>As Mateo carries the cake into the kitchen, Dot grabs Fatin’s arm, nods toward where Leah’s still seated on the couch, laptop in her lap. “How is she?” Dot asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking great,” Fatin answers. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, because for whatever reason she won’t just <em>email her professor and get an extension for her paper</em>, but she’s been doing really well. And now she knows that he can’t hurt anyone else since he’s never leaving prison again.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so glad all those women didn’t testify for nothing,” Dot says. “I was worried for a minute there.”</p><p> </p><p>“You guys know I can hear you, right?” Leah says. She pushes her glasses up to the top of her head, raises her eyebrows at Fatin and Dot.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but we don’t care,” Fatin dismisses. “Today is a good day, okay?” She grabs Dot’s hand, holds it up. “And look! My girl’s getting <em>married</em>. So email your professor and explain why your paper is going to be late, because we are going to eat cake, and then after Dot and Mateo leave, I’m going to eat you.”</p><p> </p><p>Six years ago, maybe Leah would’ve blushed. But now she grins just as widely as Fatin does while Dot fake-gags and says, “I gotta get out of here.” She goes to join her fiancé in the kitchen to cut the cake and get the champagne. Fatin walks over to the couch and throws herself down beside Leah, leaning her shoulder into Leah’s arm. Fatin glances over at the laptop’s screen, and she’s pleased to see that Leah’s in the middle of typing up an email.</p><p> </p><p>“You good?” Fatin asks. “Because if you don’t want to eat cake or celebrate at all, I get it. It’s been a long ride. And I have no problem telling Dorothy to get the fuck out, and we can do something else instead, if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, it’s fine,” Leah says. “Better than fine, actually.” She hits send on the email and closes her laptop. Fatin reaches up and grabs Leah’s glasses off the top of her head, carefully slides them back onto her face for her. Leah smiles, and Fatin automatically smiles back. “So let’s go have some cake,” Leah says, grabbing onto Fatin’s thigh. “And we can toast to Dot and Mateo, and after a respectable amount of time, if they don’t leave on their own, you can tell Dot to get the fuck out so you can eat me, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a plan, baby.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“You sure you don’t miss living with, like, a ton of other women?” Fatin asks. “You can’t tell me that you don’t miss having that one bitch pine after you.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah snaps her book shut, sets it on the nightstand with a sigh. “So are we gonna talk or not? And Michelle can’t <em>seriously </em>still be bothering you. I barely see her. If you wanna talk about it, tell me now, because I’m trying to finish this book, and you keep interrupting then acting like you don’t want to have a full ass conversation.”</p><p> </p><p>Fatin grins and digs her knuckle into Leah’s ribs, watching her squirm. “Just answer my question.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t miss it, and I live a lot closer to campus now –”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow. Didn’t even mention that you have me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t let me finish,” Leah says flatly. “And I have you. You’re so needy sometimes, you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You like it.”</p><p> </p><p>Leah smiles. Fatin’s grin widens, and she grabs a fistful of Leah’s shirt as she swings her leg across Leah’s lap, takes a seat on Leah’s thighs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not finishing that book tonight,” Leah says. Fatin’s lips are already at her neck, her hands already sliding beneath Leah’s shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you’re absolutely not finishing that book.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You probably know by now that I have so much love for all you kind souls. Thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave me your thoughts in the comments. I will get back to you as soon as possible. Or feel free to come yell at me on tumblr at blinkaftermidnight.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>